


Bright side of Winter

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Series: The House of Fëanor chronicles [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, before they screw up everything, let them enjoy themselves for a moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: With the hosts of Fingolfin and the sons of Feanor reunited again, there is some space for merriness.Short, fluffy and humorous one-shot, because SIlmarillion is not 100% angsty (the 95% in canon is enough).





	Bright side of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This story follows directly my last one, Reconciliation, but it is not necessary to be familiar with it. It's enough to know that it's set after Fingon rescued Maedhros and the two camps reunited when Maedhros renounced his claims to the crown.

**Bright side of Winter**

Winter came without warning, suddenly changing the Autumn rains into a regular flurry that covered with snow the settlement at the southern shore of lake Mithrim. The lake itself had a thin layer or tricky ice that was soon hidden under white fluff. No elf from the settlement of the sons of Feanor would risk walking on such tricky surface, and those from the other settlement were even less willing, but it didn’t mean they could not enjoy Winter, even if it almost trapped them in their houses.

Celegorm was quick, but Amras ducked and the snowball hit directly Maedhros. Surprised, the elder redhead lost his fragile balance on the ice and fell with a cry right into the snowdrift next to the path they had made.

“Oh...” Both brothers froze for a moment, because Maedhros fell deep into the snow and wasn’t getting up, then they rushed to help him.

“Nelyo?” Amras was first to reach his brother and he knelt beside him, worried that perhaps he had broken something; Alcarino was glad Maedhros was getting his strength back, but he still advised to be careful.

“Mpffffffff.” The eldest son of Feanor spat out snow and to his brothers’ relief grinned merrily. He swung his hand and tossed a snowball at Celegorm.

“You’re joining us!” Amras cried in delight and attacked the hunter.

“Hey, two against one?” Protested Celegorm, easily hitting both redheads, who, still on the ground, were easy targets.

“One and a half,” retorted Maedhros. ”Hide!” He scolded Amras, moving behind a bench half buried in snow.

Amras ducked, dragging Celegorm’s attention away from his eldest brother. Maedhros wasn’t trying to get up, leaning down to get snow was beyond his abilities so far, but he crouched behind the bench and hidden like this, he supported Amras.

“Moryo, I need help,” called Celegorm to Caranthir as soon as he went out. “Redheads against me!”

“So what, you can’t face Pityo?” snorted Caranthir, not exactly interested in joining the fight. “Ask Curufinwe for help,” he mocked.

Next moment he changed his mind as Maedhros’s snowball hit him directly in the face. For a second he froze, as he hadn’t seen him earlier, then his cheeks flushed.

“You too, Maitimo? In all your royal glory, I see,” he hissed dangerously and he approached his eldest brother against all the unwritten rules. Before Maedhros had a chance to back off, Caranthir tossed on his head all the snow from the bench’s backseat.

“How dare you? Maitimo?!” Amras ran right into Caranthir and they both rolled on the ground. The snow reached over their knees after the last flurry, so they fell deep and almost disappeared.

“I didn’t start...” Caranthir turned around and pinned Amras to the ground. “You little squirrel...”

For a moment they rolled in the snow, then Amras whirled and escaped his brother, using the fact that Caranthir got tangled in his long cloak. He also achieved his goal, as his brother joined Celegorm.

The snow fight was getting more and more interesting. Amras used his speed and Maedhros’s cover to sneak on his elder brothers, Celegorm and Caranthir joined their efforts against the redheads. They attacked mostly Amras, but Maedhros too got his share whenever he glanced over his cover.

“You’ve gone mad,” commented Curufin suddenly from the doorstep of his forge and his brothers stopped fighting for a moment. “Add Nolofinwe and I’d say you have completely lost your minds.” He raised his eyebrows, looking and the wet, snowy sons of Feanor.

“Perhaps not Nolofinwe...” muttered Caranthir, tossing the snow from under his collar. He glanced pointedly at the approaching riders.

Their cousins were riding the partly cleaned alley. Fingon and Finrod were discussing vividly, and behind them Aredhel was glancing curiously round the Feanorian camp. Turgon followed them, silent and not overly happy with this excursion.

The cousins ceased talking when they saw the sons of Feanor covered with snow. Aredhel stopped glancing and laughed merrily.

“See, not only Itaril is building snow castles,” she remarked, pointing at Maedhros. She swiftly jumped off her saddle and winked at Celegorm.

“So, you are not completely snowed,” stated Caranthir with reserve.

“Such snow is not snow at all.” Fingon shrugged. Seeing that Maedhros couldn’t get up from his snowdrift, he went to greet him.

A moment later his friend pulled him down and Fingon sat next to him, astonished; a snowball flew right above his head.

“Behave, Moryo, we have guests!” Amras elbowed his brother and ran away from his reach.

Caranthir, looking perfectly innocent, sent him an offended look, then smiled at Maedhros and Fingon. The eldest son of Fingolfin ostensibly threw  a snowball at him.

“And so it’s going to be uneven again,” sighed Celegorm.

“What do you mean?” asked Aredhel. “I’m joining you!”

“Findarato? Turko?” called Fingon to his cousin and brother, but while Finrod laughed and joined them, Turgon exchanged exasperated glances with Curufin and they both stepped aside the forge to chat politely.

Celegorm dragged to his side Celebrimbor, who had left the forge and joined the play. With even chances and larger teams the battle was more interesting. Caranthir got a target worth his interest when Finrod joined Maedhros, Aredhel targeted her brother, whom Maedhros was trying to protect.

The fight went on until they were all white, wet and, in some cases, flushed. They stopped throwing snowballs, happy and eager. Only Curufin and Turgon were still talking at the side and if the tone of their conversation was any indication, they were about to start quarreling.

“This is going to end badly,” muttered Maedhros to Fingon, seeing Celegorm lean to whisper something to Aredhel.

“Just not sure for whom,” agreed his cousin when his sister’s face brightened in delight.

Neither Turgon nor Curufon stood a chance. Aredhel jumped at her brother’s back and tossed the snow under his collar and Celegorm pushed the smith right into the snowdrift. Their reaction made all the cousins laugh and Finrod jumped on his feet from behind Maedhros’s bench.

“Not gonna miss it!” He cried and joined Aredhel to cover Turgon in snow. Next to them, Caranthir was helping Celegorm remind their brother the use of snow.

Fingon and Maedhros, as the eldest, kept the remains of dignity and did not join this attack. Seeing that they were safe, they rose and brushed the snow from their cloaks, exchanging knowing glances. Whatever Curufin and Turgon were about to argue over, it was all but forgotten due to the fact that they were soon soaking wet. Their loud protests were in vain – there was no chance the merry company would show them mercy.

“Pfff!” Curufin freed himself from Celegorm’s grasp and tossed the snow from under his work apron, deeply disgusted. He was almost as flushed as Caranthir. “So this is how we greet guests?” He turned to Maedhros with ostensive reproach for such lack of courtesy.

“Guests?” Maglor glanced from their home. Seeing his brothers and cousins covered with snow, he stopped at the doorstep, perplexed what he had missed. For that reason he missed the moment when he should have stepped back.

Maedhros and Fingon calmly approached the door; the eldest son of Feanor was first to feel the cold of his soaked clothes, so there was nothing unusual in the fact that he would prefer to get back inside. At least that was what Maglor must have thought, judging by the undignified shriek he made when his elder brother threw the snow on him. At his wounded and indignant glance Maedhros replied with his own, merry and innocent, then he turned to the rest.

“I guess no one is going to refuse a mug of mulled wine?”

 

 

 


End file.
